Last July, Sina asked me and Nate if we would come down to San Diego to help sling comic books and other Kirkman merch at Comic-Con. Comic-Con isn’t really my scene – I have very little patience for dealing with people with next to no social skills – but I obliged. It was weird, but I did such a good job hiding my discomfort and disdain for men in costumes taking my picture and making awkward advances that Sina’s company, Skybound, flew me and Nate out to New York last weekend for their production, Comic Con (note the lack of a hyphen in this one – important distinction).
There are some key differences between the SD and the NY Cons. Most notably, San Diego has no shame when it comes to revealing wardrobes. When I was in SD, I saw a gaggle of poorly constructed Princess Leia slave outfits so flimsy that when they swished around, I saw their muffs – for some reason, they thought it best to not wear underwear. More power to them I guess.
There was none of this in New York. People dressed up, but they were mostly men who would LARP in the middle of the floor for attention. We were selling these zombie plush dolls with removable heads at our booth, and they were a big hit with burly, tattoo covered guys with thick Long Island accents: “Hey uh, lemme gets a look at one of those plushies. Yeah, I’ll take two of ’em.” I realize these particular men weren’t in costume, but their tough guy acts were my favorite performance pieces of the weekend.
This New York trip coincided with my three-year anniversary with Nate. We spent it on our plane ride back to San Francisco and got home just before midnight. He went to our corner liquor store, bought some cheap champagne, and toasted to us with a Carrie Bradshaw quote: “To all the sex we’ve had in this city.” Final note on this post: my boyfriend is the best.